


Diplomatic Immunity

by MrMundy



Series: Metanoia [8]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Ari's version of Diplomatic Immunity is fun, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:41:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24069784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrMundy/pseuds/MrMundy
Summary: The Dragonborn, a former Thalmor agent, should have no problem getting into the Embassy to steal things, right?Right?
Relationships: Male Altmer Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Teldryn Sero
Series: Metanoia [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1686898
Comments: 1
Kudos: 17





	Diplomatic Immunity

Going back to the embassy was a bad idea, Ariquar knew. But the Thalmor had things that he needed, papers and documents and books recording the various agent's treks through Skyrim's wilds and information about the civil war. He breathed steadily as the carriage took him up to Solitude, watching the walls of the city come into view. Beside him, Teldryn sat, back straight. Feeling the tension, Teldryn offered a hand on his knee, and Ariquar relaxed, albeit in only a miniscule manner.

"You're sure this will work?" Delphine asked from her place across from them. Ariquar nodded.

"The timing is alright. Elenwen's party is tomorrow, so if I can get up there today, she'll be far too concerned with that to worry too much about me." Ariquar explained. "She feels the need to keep up appearances."

The carriage rolled to a stop. Delphine was the first to leave, hopping from the back. She stood in front of the small farm, just outside of the city, and crossed her arms as both Ariquar and Teldryn stepped out. The air was crisper up near Solitude, the salt on the air always strong, just like back home. It made things feel more familiar, but at the same time —

— too familiar, bringing back memories of being in the Embassy for so long. Ariquar breathed slowly, settling his nerves, and faced Delphine.

“So, what’s your plan from here?” Delphine said, not making eye contact. Her expression was nothing short of annoyed, just as it had been the entire way to Solitude. 

“I think since nobody has seen me — I’m assuming, at least — I can tell them I got lost. Kidnapped by bandits, trapped in an ancient ruin, something along those lines. And since they are ever so judgemental of Skyrim and its inhabitants, they’ll believe it.” Ariquar put his hands together, nervously stretching out his fingers.

“You look pretty good for someone trapped in an ancient ruin for four months,” Teldryn said, his voice laced with sarcasm that made Ariquar roll his eyes.

“Then I’ll have to make myself look a bit worse for wear.” Ariquar said, sparing only a moment to fix a glare in Teldryn’s direction before clearing his throat in Delphine’s direction. “Delphine?”

“What?” Delphine said, her voice sharp. 

“I need you to punch me.”

“Gladly.”

“Okay, well, I’m saying punch me, not—”

Delphine's fist connected with his jaw, and Ariquar went stumbling back. Immediately, his hand raised to hover over where she'd slammed into him, and he tasted blood slowly seeping from where his lip had connected with his teeth. 

He stood straight once again, adjusting his jaw. Okay. 

"Again," he said, and Delphine raised a brow. He continued, "If I'm going to look like I got roughed up, it's got to be believable. Again, come on."

Maybe he had chosen Teldryn to do this, he realised, as he saw Delphine's eyes narrow. She swung with her opposite arm and her fist landed with a loud  _ smack _ . He shook his head, knowing the familiar sting of the dark bruising of a black eye forming.

"Okay," he said, holding his face, "I think I'll just spend some time up in the forest to, ah… Do the rest." 

"Good idea. Though," Teldryn said, "We should get you something else to wear. Here."

He pulled his satchel from his back, pulling out his well—worn clothing. Still dirty from the last time he'd worn them in Raven Rock. He tossed the shirt to Ariquar, who caught it and began unlatching the chitin armor he wore. His pants, he figured, would work just fine — and a pair of simple boots, worn from use, helped make him look…

Well. Like he'd seen better days. Ariquar straightened the sleeves and pulled his dark hair free from its bun, letting it fall over his shoulders. The start of a beard on his face helped, too — he'd stopped shaving some time ago. 

  
  
  


He ended up at the gates with a decent amount of dirt all over his borrowed clothes. Running through the forest as he did also gave him some scratches and cuts and — yes, alright, he'd fallen down a bit of an incline when a fox startled him from in the bush. He was fairly certain he had leaves in his hair, now, as well. 

One of the justiciars — Taelinwrie, his former mentor — caught sight of him at the gates and ordered them open. Ariquar shuffled inside, and Taelinwrie hesitantly put an arm out for him to lean on as he led him inside the building, out of the cold. 

Inside, he stood on the rug and dusted his shoes off, frowning at a stubborn piece of mud that refused to come off. After a moment of this, Taelinwrie snapped him to attention, and Ariquar felt his body slip right back into apprentice mode, chin raised as he met his mentor's eyes.

"You haven't reported to us in three months — what happened?"

Ariquar rubbed at his face, smearing dirt over his cheekbone. Justiciar Taelinwrie made a face that could only be described as disgusted.

"I got mixed up with some bandits near Ivarstead," he explained, knowing he had to sell the lie for them to believe it, "And — well, I haven’t quite had the time to take care of myself thus far.”

Taelinwrie looked him over, going as far as grabbing his chin to turn his head this way and that, inspecting his injuries. Ariquar winced, the bruising on his jaw feeling tender, made worse by the tight grip the justiciar had on him.

"How long did they have you?" He asked, and Ariquar thought about it — making a lie up in his head, but appearing as though he was recounting the days.

"I — perhaps a month? More? I was tracking a dragon, you see—" his explanation was cut off early.

"Go get cleaned up." Taelinwrie said, letting go of him and dusting his hands off, "Elenwen will want to speak with you tonight."

"Thank you," Ariquar answered, and hurried away, down toward the washrooms and living quarters. As he passed by a few of the halls, he caught brief tidbits of conversation, things about the other agents not reporting back in at least a few months, worry that some might have been killed by dragons...

It sounded like luck was on his side, then.

His old quarters were as of yet unchanged; a change of clothing lay in the drawers at the end of the bed, and one of his old swords still sat in its sheath against the wood frame of the bed. He took the clothes, noting that they were still, in fact, his old casual wear from home. Deep blue, still just as soft as he remembered. 

No time to reminisce, though. He made his way to the washroom, dropping his current clothes into a basket with an apology in his head to Teldryn. He probably wouldn't be getting those back.

Nonetheless, he did what he was told — cleaned himself up and scrubbed his hair until the water no longer ran with specks of dirt. Ran a brush through it until it was sleek and smooth the way he used to wear it; adventuring had taken its toll on his hair, it seemed, as it still frizzed at the ends and looked … twice as thick, really. Not a bad look altogether, he figured, but bad imagery for a hopeful Thalmor. 

Pulled back and out of his face, his hair was easier to manage. 

Then came the beard. 

He'd taken a liking to it, actually, and he was regretful to see it go. But 'cleaned up' meant abiding by the uniform, and that meant no facial hair. Ariquar took the soap and the straight razor and went to work in the mirror, flinching as he ran the blade over the tender part of his jaw, nicking himself just on his bruise.

Ah, well. He washed that quickly and got dressed, taking one last glance at Teldryn's clothes in the basket before turning away.

He wanted to pick up that basket, but —

Ariquar shook his head, heading for the door. 

Taelinwrie was on the other side.

"Come, now." He said, and Ariquar followed after him through the halls, taken upstairs and past the common room. Into a room with another agent he knew — Caranwe — who motioned for him to sit beside her at the table.

"Let me see those injuries," she said, almost scoldingly. She made a 'tsk' sound as she inspected his face.

"Cut myself shaving," he said, and she laughed. 

"Didn't you do that a lot when you were younger?" Caranwe asked, and he looked away, feeling his face heat up.

"I," he stammered, "Yes, but — it was because I have a bruise, this time."

"Well," she hummed, "Let's rid you of that."

Her magic focused on his wounds, the obvious ones first. The cut on his face, the scrapes on his hands from when he fell. He pointed out bruises to her, and —

Her hands lingered on his wrists a bit too long for his comfort. 

"We've been worried about you," Caranwe said, after Taelinwrie left the room. "Well. Most won't admit it, but I was."

"Oh." Ariquar said, and resisted the urge to pull away. She was healing him, nothing more.

"Should you stick around for a bit, I'd love to hear about your adventures." Her fingers slid over his hand. Stayed there for far too long. Ariquar forced a fake smile, hiding his discomfort.

"I will… be sure to share them. With everyone." He said, and moved to stand. "I should work on a report, I'm sorry, Caranwe, sorry."

  
  


He spent the night plotting out just when Elenwen would be busiest. Her office would be locked and shut during the party, but if he managed a lie that he was allowed in there for something…

Well, maybe it could work. He could lie and say that he needed to put his reports in her office, for her eyes only. He could lie and say he found some very important details that he wanted her to review first — hell, if he said that to Elenwen herself, she might just tell him to do so.

Plan set in his head, he went to lay down in a bed he hadn’t seen in ages and tried to rest. 

Of course, resting when one is high—strung about betraying their former alliance that they’d dedicated their entire life to was not the easiest task, and so Ariquar was still rather tired by the time he had to get up. He wasn’t supposed to attend the party, himself, so he waited until just before evening when it was to begin to grab Elenwen’s attention with a quick wave and a convincing look.

“I have some things for you,” he said, “I wrote down some very important details about what I saw during my months out.”

Elenwen fixed him with an annoyed glare; she’d been working tirelessly to get the embassy in order for the party to best cater to their guests, no matter how lowly they were. She scoffed.

“Just put them in my solar. I’ll read them after I’m done dealing with these pests.” She said, and Ariquar counted himself lucky that things were going so smoothly. Just keep it going like this. Just keep on like this.

He turned away from her and made his way toward his room for his decoy papers and then to the courtyard, bypassing the others standing guard. He still refused to wear his old robes; mostly out of an excuse that they were too restrictive and he needed time to recover. He should have put something more on, though — the chill outside was biting through the thin layers he wore as he got to the door of the solar.

“Business?” Said the Justiciar at the door — Ondaen. 

“Papers for Elenwen,” Ariquar said, pulling forward a thick roll. Inside, it was blank. But Ondaen didn’t need to know that.

“Hm.” Was the response, and Ondaen pulled a key from his coat to unlock the door.

“Thank you.” Ariquar said, and shuffled inside. Warmer inside, lit by warm—colored lanterns, he made his way up and through the solar to Elenwen’s personal office, dropping the large roll of papers on her desk. Then, he turned to look around the room, made sure he was alone, and began going through her desk.

“There has to be something,” He said, grabbing anything that looked useful. He shoved papers and journals into his bag, going through her desk and the chests beside that. 

Dossiers!

He snatched those, quickly shoving them into his bag. He didn’t need much more than that, he didn’t think, but another wouldn’t hurt — 

“Ariquar?” Taelinwrie’s voice called out as the door opened. He stiffened, standing straight. 

The following moment made his heart drop. Taelinwrie fixed him with a suspicious stare, looking from his face to his bag, papers fluttering to the floor.

“What is this?” Taelinwrie said, voice turning stern. “What are you doing in here?”

Ariquar stammered, unsure of what to say that wouldn’t make him more suspicious. 

“I needed to put some papers in Elenwen’s desk,” He said, and began stepping away from the desk. Taelinwrie stepped further into the room.

“And so you brought your entire bag, full of — journals?” Taelinwrie said, “You didn’t have anything of the sort when you arrived.”

“I’m a fast writer?” Ariquar said, and Taelinwrie lunged forward.

A shock spell hit the wall behind him as Ariquar ducked out of the way, shouting his apologies as he slammed Taelinwrie in the back, hard, sending him sprawling onto the ground. Some of the guards downstairs heard the ruckus and began rushing upstairs, shouting, and Ariquar panicked.

He didn’t have many options.

He looked at Taelinwrie upon the floor, at the mess of Elenwen’s desk, and knew he’d be jailed immediately upon being caught. 

So he rushed for the window, slamming it open. He took a deep breath, steadying his Voice as Taelinwrie struggled to get up. Two wizards came into the office, shouting, and Ariquar jumped from a second—story window.

“Feim!” He Shouted, and felt his body fade into an ethereal nothingness. He knew that one word wasn’t enough, wasn’t much at all to keep him safe for long, and the volume of the Shout alerted the rest of the agents in the yard. He hit the ground and didn’t feel a thing, taking off for the closed gates. 

The feeling began to give way as he approached the fencing. 

He might have been able to get past if he could Shout again quickly, but his throat ached too much to try again so fast. So he slid in the snow at the gates and attempted to open it, grateful that the lock was undone. The guard that had been watching the gate was at the doors of the building, and was rushing at him with spells at the ready. 

He ran through the gates, feeling the telltale burn of an electric spell at his heels and kept running, counting down until he knew the ache in his Voice would fade and he could Shout again,

and oh, was he grateful to the Graybeards for teaching him to Sprint as they did. Ariquar lost his balance as the Shout carried him forward several meters, wherein he landed and took the fall by rolling on his side down the hill. Somewhere at the edge of the forest, he knew, there would be a carriage, and he’d be home free.

  
  


Teldryn, sitting in the back of the same carriage he and Ariquar had arrived at Solitude in, flipped through pages of a book he’d nabbed from Ariquar’s bag. Not one of his journals — he wasn’t about to be that person and pry in his friend’s private thoughts. No, it was some history book that he had obviously been reading to expand his realm of knowledge beyond just Summerset. 

It was dreadfully boring drivel.

The tarp on the carriage opened and Delphine stepped up and into the back, immediately complaining,

“I can’t believe I trusted him. We should be leaving.” 

"He has done nothing but rely on you for guidance because he's unsure of what steps to take and this is how you repay that?" Teldryn said, looking up from the book. "We are  _ not _ leaving. We're waiting for him whether you like it or not."

"He's been in the embassy for far too long," Delphine protested, and was met with another snap from Teldryn.

"I trust him to come back." 

"And if instead, the Thalmor come out to attack us? Find us an easy target?" Delphine said, throwing her arms out to make herself seem bigger. Teldryn simply narrowed his eyes at her.

"Then I will march into the embassy myself and  _ drag _ Ariquar from it, because obviously they found out about his little plan and he's being held captive." He drawled, closing the book and setting it aside.

"You hold a lot of faith in him." Delphine frowned, crossing her arms.

"He's my friend." Teldryn said, bored of her negativity already. 

From outside, the sound of Shouting was obvious. Teldryn opened the back of the carriage, staring up the hill. 

“That should be him,” He said, giving a glare in Delphine’s direction before lighting a Magelight to show Ariquar which way to go. It worked — at least, that’s what he’d claim later as Ariquar appeared from the brush, rushing toward him.

“Come on!” Ariquar yelled, and Teldryn pulled him up into the back of the carriage. Delphine, unbelieving of the situation in front of her, hesitated until Ariquar yelled that they had go, now, and she threw herself toward the front of the carriage to crawl through the tarp at the front and take the reins.

The carriage lurched forward and Ariquar finally caught his breath, covered once again in snow, mud, and leaves. Teldryn sat down next to him, pulling twigs from his hair and brushing his hair from his face to help him see.

“How’d that go?” Teldryn asked, and Ariquar laughed nervously.

“I can’t believe it worked,” He said, “I can’t believe I actually got out of there.”

Teldryn grinned.

“Well, I, for one, believed that you would the entire time.” He said, and Ariquar laughed.

“Thank you.” Ariquar said, and brought his bag onto his lap. It was practically stuffed with stolen documents, papers, journals, and the dossiers he’d found.

Maybe things will go alright from here on out, he thought. 


End file.
